


/yel-oh/

by xHeyKYJx



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Light Angst, M/M, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHeyKYJx/pseuds/xHeyKYJx
Summary: /yel-oh/adjective1.     of the color between green and orange in the spectrum, a primary subtractive color complementary to blue; colored like ripe lemons or egg yolks.





	/yel-oh/

**Author's Note:**

> I literally don’t even know what this is lol. It was in my docs for a while but with different characters (just random names) and I was like, “hm. content?”
> 
> Whatever, hope you like it haha

Felix's touch is canary yellow, his words medallion, his laugh daffodil, his smile butterscotch. Jeongin tried to draw him once, back when they first met in high school. The page was filled with captivating swirls and intricate designs of yellow, of Felix's color.

What color is Felix?

Yellow.

But if Jeongin had to be specific, he'd say dijon. Deeper than the ocean itself, filled with even deeper words and a lighter laugh. It brings him back to his youth, back to the days when everything was a shade lighter than it is now and Felix was never a color in his sketchpad.

Everyone has their own color. To Jeongin, at least. His little brother, for example. Fern green and his laugh pear, a color that he could imagine holding gently in his fingers and feeling its softness, its fuzziness around the edges. Or his parents, even, sepia and grey. All of these colors, everywhere, in his ears and his mouth and his eyes.

Everywhere.

 

 

 

It’s an isolating thing, being himself. Being special.

Being Yang Jeongin.

 

 

Tiny huffs of kitten breath puff out of Venus’ pink nose, so little and sweet, like candy. Jeongin cards his fingers slowly through thick black-brown fur. Venus is mauve, mauve is Venus.

Mauve is Jeongin's favorite color. It makes him want to draw when he thinks of it, makes him want to dedicate a page in his sketchpad to lavender breaths and lilac meows and sangria hisses.

 

 

“Hey, Jeongin-ah.”

Ah. Han Jisung, turquoise and flamboyant. A golden-skinned, blonde-haired beauty.

“Hi, hyung.”

“How are things, babe? Good, yeah?”

 _Babe_. Jisung calls everyone that, much to Felix's chagrin. _Save it for someone special,_ he says. _Save it for someone you love._ These words are never new to Jisung, and every time, his answer is just as many times old.

_But I love everyone._

“Yeah.”

Jisung's voice is grainy over the phone. Felix keeps saying he’ll get a new one, but he hasn’t yet. Jeongin wants a cherry-red rotary.

“Not talking much, eh? One of those days?”

Jeongin nods even though Jisung can’t hear him.

“Ahhh…” Jisung sighs, because somehow he just gets it, and Jeongin has never been more thankful for his friend than in this moment. “I’ll go now, babe. Don’t think too much, okay?”

 _Okay_. Not _‘kay_. He's serious, firm. Worried.

“Okay.”

Jisung hangs up and leaves Jeongin to stare at the cracked black phone in his hands, and all he can do is wonder who invented phones in the first place.

 

 

“We should get a dog.”

“A- a what?”

“A dog. A corgi, maybe.”

  
“...but we have a cat.”

“They’d get along fine.”

“Who, our Venus and a dog?”

“Yes.”

  
“Why do you suddenly desire a dog, exactly?”

“So I can paint it.”

“Your mother is allergic to dogs.”

“So?”

  
“ _So_ , we can’t get one. She couldn’t come over.”

“She doesn’t come over, anyway.   
She’s _never_ been over.”

“We’re not getting a dog.”

“Please?”

  
“We have Venus.”

“That’s different.”

  
“Oh, oh really? How is that different?”

“I _need_ Venus, but I _want_ a dog.  
It’s different.”

“...I see your point.”

“So we’re getting a dog?”

  
“ _No_.”

 

 

hello, there,  
       dijon.   
              warm, beautiful love  
but not like  
        the sun   
which pales in comparison  
               to you.

look at that,   
      the   
                  _colors_  
everywhere, everything.

calendar   
       cerulean june   
tiger october  
             seafoam july.                      color in  
       everywhere,   
color in   
                  _me_. 

 

 

_three years earlier…_

**_i.n.myfeelings_ has logged on.  
we should get tattoos**

**_felixfelicis_ has logged on.  
weve been dting for five months**

**no i mean later  
when were old and married**

**u think well get that far?**

**do u??**

**i hope we will**

**me 2**

**what would we get  
if we actually did get tats, i mean**

**...  
...a sun and a moon?..**

**u could design them**

**its not that easy  
these would be permanent**

**id love it even if it was ugly**

**not if u couldnt take it off**

**itd be from u, tho  
thats enough**

**ill think abt it**

**night, jeonginnie**

**night, felix**

 

 

_one year earlier..._

“Venus,” Jeongin clicks his tongue, crouching down low. From the depths of the carrier glow two green eyes, wide and hostile. Jeongin creeps forward the tiniest bit. “Venus,” he whispers. “C’mere, come to daddy.”

“Ew,” Felix says, cringing in disgust. “Daddy? Why not just Jeongin?” Jeongin furrows his eyebrows at him. “What’s that look for?” Felix rolls his eyes. “ _Daddy_ ,” he stresses. “Is weird. It makes you sound like a perv.” From inside the cage, Venus hisses. “See, look, she’s provoked.”

“You can’t even see her from there. Come look at our new daughter.”

“Don’t be weird.”

“You were the one who suggested we start living together after _seven months_.”

Felix throws his hands up in exasperation. “I meant later!”

“It _is_ later!” Jeongin yells back, laughing. Felix rolls his eyes again. “Quit being loud,” he says snootily. “You’ll upset our daughter.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “She technically is our daughter,” he says. “We’ve adopted her, haven’t we?”

“She’s a cat though, baby. We’re humans.”

“Humans are animals.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what it sounded like when you said you wanted to live with me.”

“ _Jeongin_!”

 

 

I first saw you in  
Black.   
Edgy, rough  
Like you.  
I was in love  
But you saw me  
As nothing  
The dust in the corners  
The speckles on the ceiling.  
“Hey,” I started  
And see me,  
You did.

 

 

“What’s all that ink on your hands?”

Jeongin blinks down at the fading stripes and spots color on his fingers.

“Oh, I was drawing.”

Jisung snorts, reaching over the table and grabbing a few of Jeongin's fries. “‘f course you were. What was it?”

“Dog.”

“Not _a_ dog? Just ‘dog’?"

Jeongin nods once, solemn.

“Ah.” And then Jisung keeps eating, unfazed by Jeongin's… _Jeongin-ness_.

Jeongin decides he’ll draw Jisung tomorrow.

 

 

 _Remember what the people said_  
Remember what the people said  
When it’s said and done  
Let it go

 _Remember what the people said_  
Remember what the people said  
When it’s said and done  
Let it go

 

 

Sometimes Jeongin wonders why Felix likes him.

Why Felix  _loves_ him.

Frankly speaking, he’s average. Deeply, deeply average. He’s not handsome, he’s not ugly. He’s not nice, he’s not mean. He’s not funny, he’s not unfunny. He’s not talented, he’s not untalented.

He’s stuck in the middle, ambivalent.

Except for the colors, of course.

No one else can feel them or hear them or taste them the way he does, which is just so… _weird_. Sad. Jeongin can’t imagine people not being able to experience things the way he does. It’s beautiful. Isolating, cruel, but worth it all the same. It’s like there’s a hole in his chest when he thinks about it, when he remembers that people don’t see swirling charcoal and grey when someone plays _Alleyways_ or the lavender of Venus’ breathing or the musky kind of mustard that flashes behind his eyelids when Felix's hands holds his. 

Sometimes he imagines that everyone should be able to experience these things, but _they’re_ the ones who’re messed up because they can’t. Jeongin isn’t weird and different in these daydreams. He’s normal.

Except he’s _not_.

Thoughts like these always crush him, this unending sense of hopelessness that he can’t seem to shake sometimes. He feels so…

 _Silent_.

Even though there are thousands of people to listen, _none of them do_. It’s like he doesn’t have a voice. Sometimes he wonders if he does. He wants to make noise, to smash a window or a chair or bang his fists on the walls until they bleed and someone finally _listens_ to him.

And then he thinks of Felix.

He listens. He may not understand what Jeongin’s telling him,

But he’ll _listen_.

And then he’ll curl his fingers around Jeongin's and he always thinks of it as ten little hugs, all at once. And he’ll shoot him-- not give-- _shoot_ him a daffodil smile because they always hit him right where it counts and he’ll say,

_Thank you for telling me._

Because even if he doesn’t understand it, understand _him_ ,

He still loves him,

With all of his yellow heart

And Jeongin loves him,

With all of his.


End file.
